


For A Week

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Character Death at the end, Sherlock is like the awkward uncle, adventures in babysitting, angsty ending, pre-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I deleted the original  by accident so I am reposting it.  </p><p> </p><p>****** There is mention of character death at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For A Week

Chapter 1: Settling In  
Measuring and scooping done in a routine, the low buzzing of a coffee pot broke the eerie dawn silence, the smells started to flow into the air, waking another sense. It is one thing to wake up compared to being awake. Black coffee made milky with creamer, he drank in the strong smell of the coffee, turning to see a long fellow sprawled out on the couch, black curly hair going every which way, fingers typing away at the laptop on his chest.

"Thanks again Sherlock, Mary and I couldn't thank you enough for watching Hamish for the week." The silent was broken by a grunt from the man on the couch, barely looking up from his laptop. John's blue eyes glared softly toward his best friend before he crossed the small flat that he once shared with the detective to slowly close the lid of the laptop, Sherlock's grey eyes drifting up toward his in a glare.

"Excuse yourself Doctor Watson, but I was working on something. What gave you the right?" Sherlock's word were cold and lacking anything other than the apparent annoyance toward John.

"This is my son you are watching, my own flesh and blood Sherlock. Pay attention to him and absolutely no experimenting. If I find one hair out of place I will personally destroy your mold samples and have Molly ban you from Barts." John's tone was serious, showing just how worn down the aging doctor was, the stress of his wife's family situation was getting the best of him, not to mention the active ten year old always at his heels.

"Your pleasant wife has already told me the rules. I am not to ignore him and he must get three meals a day. No experimenting will go on, he isn't to stay up past nine and if he has night terrors, warm milk and a biscuit will be plenty. I've read some parenting books John, I am not a fool." Sherlock answered him in his natural lengthily way of explaining things, John nodded curtly, still a little hesitate to leave Hamish here, but after seeing that his son was comfortable in his old rooms, spent the night to make Hamish feel more comfortable, the ex-army doctor was inclined to quickly join his wife and see to her family dilemma with well practiced calm.

"Mrs. Hudson has already agreed to help you with cooking or you can always order take away, it's best I go before he wakes up." John spoke the last part to himself, uncomfortable with goodbyes, he'd call Hamish once he met up with his wife, it was only three and a quarter hours by car to Manchester where he'd meet up with Mary and she drive to her parent's house. Without another word, John picked up his case checked his watch before exiting the flat at 221B Baker street, ignoring the paternal fears he had about Sherlock watching Hamish.

\------

"Um..hello...Mr.Holmes I'm hungry.." The small voice of a blue eyed brown haired boy drew Sherlock out of his mind and into reality, his eyes focusing on the child standing in front of him. The boy was on the shorter side, but clearly growing, his wore a rugby related shirt that must have been John since it didn't fit him at all, with one graceful movement, Sherlock was up and standing, looking down at the child that barely reached the middle of his chest.

"Well Hamish, your dad was kind enough to leave some of your favorite cereal, it's on the counter and milk in the fridge." Hamish started at the tall detective before nodding, a strong shyness before doing as he was told, the cereal in a bowl and spoon beside it he turned toward the fridge, pulling it open he let out a startled sound.

"Um..Mr.Holmes why are there fingers in the fridge?" He asked rather calmly, closing the gap between him and the fridge Sherlock felt a little guilty having forgot about them, he should have put them up higher and out of eye sight of Hamish.

"Part of an experiment, no worries just delete you ever saw them." Sherlock told him, reaching for the milk and putting at the table, Hamish poured his milk into the bowl, it was quiet in the small kitchen until his innocent voice broke the silence.

"Can I experiment with you?" He asked softly not looking up from his cereal, Sherlock's grey eyes looked over the child as he remained standing by the fridge.

"I promise your mum I would't experiment on you. Besides my work is important to you can't have a child messing things up." He replied rather harshly which had Hamish looking down, his shoulders slacking in defeat.

"Ok" He replied with a small voice, dropping his spoon in his bowl before rising off the chair and putting everything in the sink, the uneaten cereal going down the drain.

"I suppose you can watch but from a distance." Sherlock finally broke down he couldn't stand being on off terms with Hamish no matter how unaccustomed he was to the little offspring of his only friend. Hamish seem to light up he quickly ran into John's old room and returned in record time, dressed for the day, hiding a smile Sherlock looked at him and was reminded of how much of John was in Hamish, the young boy was now wearing a jumper and jean combo that clearly was worn down, Sherlock noted that Hamish was something of an old soul, a phrase used to describe someone that appeared and behaved from another time, much like Sherlock himself.

\-------------------  
"Lestrade, you can't just barge over here without a case." Sherlock's annoyed voice was clear as the elder detective pushed open the door to the annoying consultant's flat.

"Stop complaining Sherlock I'm just here to visit Hamish." Greg explained pushing past the tall detective and placing two bags of take away on the table, Hamish smiled and ran to the man with a large hug to follow.

"Hi Uncle Greg!" He shouted as Greg ruffled the hair of the boy, returning the hug with a deep chuckle. The boy scrambled to reach for the food as Greg made a show of presenting the boy with a DVD of some children's movie, Hamish had his plate full of food and sat down in front of the telly, not at all waiting for anyone as he started the film and was lost in the world of hobbits and drawfs and something about a ring.

"So Sherlock you like the company?" Greg asked making himself a small plate, Sherlock was ignoring him but he shrugged. Eleven years had past since John and Mary had been married, eleven years he had been living alone but with the little person in his flat he was for the first time enjoying the extra presence and realized just how much he missed it.

"Hamish joined me on conducting an experiment on finger prints, he actually wanted to learn versus John always complaining about the mess." A rare smile was seen on Sherlock as he looked at Hamish again, seeing the parts of John and the parts of Mary.

"I have a case for you Sherlock, a very minor one hardly a five but I'll have the case file brought up before I leave so you can look it over. It looks to be a routine domestic which lead to murder but something about the way the man died hints something else might have happened." Greg remarked as he cleared his plate, starting to put things away. It became a habit of his, he'd visit Sherlock at least once a week claiming to be bringing cases when in reality he was checking on the neighborhood genius, a request made by John after he and Mary moved out. Greg knew that Sherlock knew the reasoning behind all his visits but both men made a silence agreement not to question in for the sake of John and his worrisome tendencies

"He calls me Mr.Holmes but you Uncle Greg." Sherlock said flatly as a child's laughter rang out, both men were lost to the joke but a wrinkle of a smile touched them both.

"For starters I'm always visiting John, we watch rugby and football plus Mary and my wife know each other. Sherlock I've only known of you visiting them when you have to because John isn't answering your texts. Maybe if you were in his life more often he'd call you Sherlock or god forbid Uncle Sherlock." Greg was firm in his words despite the glare that Sherlock sent his way. The lanky man didn't want to admit just how much he was lacking in interaction with John's family, but it wasn't like he had much practice himself, him and Mycroft hardly talk besides threatening each other.

"He is named after me that should count for something." He answered with a voice that indicated he was going deep into thought. Hamish Sherlock Watson was the child's name, Mary insisted he be named Hamish James after her father but upon John explaining to her why James was a bad memory they agreed that Sherlock was fitting, feeling that without Sherlock John and Mary wouldn't have met, despite the nature of their meeting.

"Well I'll be off then don't make sure he is off to bed at nine, you and John would have a royal row if you ruined the boy's routine." Greg spoke but he doubted Sherlock heard him, he placed the case files on top of Sherlock's violin before saying his goodbye to Hamish and departing down the stairs.

\-----------

"I ..can't sleep..." Came the very faint whisper of a ten year old as the clock marked two am. Looking up from the case files Sherlock looked over the small ward as he nodded.

"Your mum said a glass of warm milk and send you back to bed." Hamish shrugged as Sherlock who appeared to be taking more care in the child than in himself, went to the kitchen, Hamish sat down on the couch his blanket wrapped snugly around him. His blue eyes drifted toward the small table that had Sherlock's case files. A child's curiosity got the better of him as he went to them, pulling the file closer to him. Hamish knew better, dad always got mad at him if he tired to read the case files he brought home but something about how Sherlock didn't seem to care had him seeking them out this time. The sight of the blood wasn't scary, nor the body in his head he told himself that it was all fake despite the small nagging feeling that reminded him it wasn't.

"Step back from those files Hamish." Sherlock's deep voice caught him off guard as he jumped back, eyes down cast. "Your father would have my skin for shoes if he knew you saw those." He scolded before thrusting forward the milk, Hamish flinched a little as the lukewarm milk landed on his hand, he was prepared for a much louder reaction.

"Dad always gets after me more looking at them, he doesn't like it that I want to be a detective. Mum wants me to be a teacher like her, dad just wants me safe I guess. Blood doesn't scare me honest. I don't get nightmares from them...I get scared from..." Hamish stopped talking and sipped the milk, Sherlock wanted to press but he didn't, sensing even with his pathetic social skills that Hamish wasn't comfortable with his fears.

"Your father is a man that has seen war, you only wants to see you safe because he has seen the bad things in life. Your mum wants you to be a teacher because she is one too, a common desire for parents." He looked over the child who had moved to sit on the couch, milk still in hand, the detective made a show of covering up the case files as he waited for Hamish to finish his milk.

"Goodnight again Mr.Holmes." Hamish said after the milk glass was put away, he drug his blanket and headed back to John's room. Following him Sherlock watched as he climbed into bed and laid down but Sherlock had seen many sleepless night, Hamish wasn't going to be any time soon.

"Do you like to read Hamish?" Sherlock asked from the door way, the ten year old sat up in his father's old bed and nodded, his voice last in the feeling that he shouldn't be up so late. "I assume you are above your grade level in terms of reading. I've collected some great literature over my years. I rather you read those then watch crap telly, why not go pick something out. I won't tell your mum you were up at 3 am reading if you wont." A click of his tounge and a nod of his head toward the bookcase and Sherlock was gone, Hamish up and out of bed to follow him.

\------

"Why did George have to kill Lennie?" Came the soft words of Hamish who had himself in his father's chair, legs off the arm rest and back pressed against the other. Sherlock was in his chair across from him reading over something relating to Lestrade's case as he looked up. Hamish had the book put down on his chest, Sherlock had read many books and stored their knowledge in some place within his mind palace, it took a moment for Sherlock to gather the information to form a correct response.

"If George didn't kill Lennie, Curly would have and most likely have caused Lennie a lot of pain, George did it out a kind of sentiment, a love for Lennie and his innocence." Sherlock explained to the ten year old, who had now sat up a little in the chair.

"It was sad that he died, but it was for the best, he would have suffered if Curly got a hold of him, George is kind of a bad hero. He protected Lennie but had to kill him to do it." Sherlock had few moments committed to memory that he was surprised, but this was one of them. Never had he met a child so clever and straight forward in his thoughts since himself. Hamish was clearly smarter than his age and quite simply a brilliant young boy. The mention of the hero had Sherlock replaying the row he had with John so many years ago for a moment he saw why John wanted him to be a hero. Do what was right even if it was hard, just as George did for Lennie in the book, Hamish was able to make it so clear in a few short words, a fantastically brilliant young mind.

"A fine deduction Hamish, why not put that book up where it belongs and I'll ask Mrs. Hudson to make you a sandwich, I have to leave for a bit. I won't be long just have to talk with Detective Inspector Lestrade. You are not to leave his flat unless you are with Mrs. Hudson understood?" Sherlock rose from his chair, button up his suit coat before heading toward the door and pulling on his mac then scarf, quickly knotting it. Hamish was lost for a moment in his world of books as he pulled out a rather run down copy of a book, from the looks of hit's purple and maroon cover it was one of John's old favorites, a story about an orphan boy in some magical world.

Sherlock paused in the doorway simply watching Hamish as he dove into another world, a fantastic world no doubt. As he watched him he felt a an old emotion resurfacing, a kind of caring that he had for few people, it was a love but also a protective feeling also. It wasn't like the love he had for John, the man was like a brother to him someone that would stand by him through the good and the bad. It also didn't match the love he had for Mrs.Hudson, he saw the old woman like the mother he never had, she was a steady presence, not actively in his life but someone he could go to if anything went sour, she'd understand even if she was frantic like a hen. This feeling was that Hamish was someone to protect, defenseless and naive about the world but clever and brilliant enough to desire to understand it, Hamish was so much like him it was eerie, how could John Watson handle two geniuses in his life?

Turning in his heels he went down the stairs, pausing only to tell Mrs. Hudson he was leaving and to please bring a sandwich up to Hamish in an hour, she went off about how Sherlock should take Hamish with him, he didn't have the time or the desire to explain but exited the flat and hailed a cab, climbing inside after checking who the cabbie was, he said Scotland Yard and off they went, Sherlock going into his mind palace for a brief moment during the ride.

 

Chapter 2: Goodnight Hamish  
Summary:  
Sherlock returns late at night to find a certain ten year old up and waiting for him, the Consulting Detective is about to learn a lesson in parenting.

 

End Notes:  
sorry it's taken so long for me to post, I've been sick and busy. What fabulous combo [sarcasm]  
Also I'm starting a new Sherlock fic so look for that one tonight :)

I have done some research into Sherlock's age in the BBC show, but unable to find a clear age so to make everything clear and easy I'm making up my own ages :)

 

"Lestrade I'll fill my statement tomorrow at 9 am sharp." Sherlock spoke to the Detective Inspector as he with elegant ease removed the clip from the handgun and handed each piece to Lestrade, a dark smirk followed right after. "Clearly the wife's lover did it, a women without proper knowledge to even aim at me couldn't have shot her husband so cleanly in the heart, not to mention it was from behind, you really are starting to slack Lestrade. A novice could have noted that, sloppy work you lot." Sherlock's adrenaline was waning, the chase after the murder then having a gun pulled on him, had Sherlock in a high but quickly falling, he needed a new case already. Grey eyes looking from the woman in handcuffs being put into a car, her lover in another, Sherlock adjusted his coat and scarf. "You know where to find me. Remember nothing less than a seven" Sherlock gave a nod before leaving the crime scene, receiving a lovely glare from both Donovan and Anderson, he hailed a cab and left.

"You know he's got a kid, feel bad for that poor lad." Anderson's dull voice was loud enough for Lestrade to hear and quickly the elder man moved to stand in front of the fair faced and dark haired man.

"You best keep your mouth shut other wise we'd be letting a murder go free. If you'd notice that the gunshot was from the back he wouldn't have needed to be here." Greg shot back his temper rising, the mention of Hamish even if it wasn't by name had his blood in a boil. Most of the past ten years have been trying to keep Sherlock in check and entertained, he didn't need either of them to interfere or bad mouth him anymore then they already did, he just wasn't in the mood for it. "Pack up your things and get back to the Yard, you both have loads of paper work." Greg watched both their faces turn into glare but he did't care, instead he went to his police issued car and drove himself to the yard.

\----

Climbing the steps up to his flat, Sherlock paused before pushing the unlocked door open. Light was coming in from the cracks, expecting to find a wide awake Hamish, Sherlock pushed the door up fast and hard, but regretted it as soon as he did. Asleep in his father's old chair, a book resting open on his chest, Sherlock softly closed the door behind him, looking at the lad closely. His brown hair was damp, the cup on the end table still steaming, from the soft smell it was most likely a cup of warm milk made by Mrs.Hudson. The book on his chest was more than half-way finished, Sherlock was oddly proud that Hamish was such a quick reader, a habit he too held. The boy was awkwardly sleeping in the chair, Sherlock being one to have odd sleeping patterns wasn't sure how the boy was comfortable, but he didn't dare wake the boy. Turning to John's old room he quickly ventured in, harboring a smile as he tore off the blanket and returned to drape it over Hamish's sleeping frame. "Goodnight Hamish." He whispered softly, petting the boy's hair before finding his own comfortable spot on the couch, pulling the laptop to his chest and once again began the task of updating his blog, his mind reeling with the night's events.

With his blog finished he melted into his mind palace, sorting away the events more clearly, creating a new room for Hamish, adding in the details he had recently learned about his 'nephew'.

\----  
"Hoo hoo, coming in" Mrs. Hudson's knock was loud enough to wake the dead but Sherlock hadn't slept but was awake silently plucking away at his violin when the land lady came in. "Oh didn't know you were awake, I didn't even know you came home. Hamish tried to wait for you, oh Sherlock you've got a bruise." Mrs.Hudson's rapid maternal speech had Sherlock slightly annoyed but he allowed her to bring him a small cup of tea and started to clean the mess of a flat, Hamish still hadn't woken up but he started to stir.

"Mrs.Hudson, may I have a word with you?" Sherlock asked placing the violin on the table and taking the woman by the arm and bringing her into the kitchen, she started to clean just as she always did.

"Whats going on in your funny head Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson cooed toward the man she had grown to love as a son, he gave her a scowl but dismissed the possible insult, his hands busy with the violin bow, unable to form the question. "Is it about Hamish? No worries Sherlock boys sleep a lot, I was a nanny once had a lad play all day long and sleep late into the day, but of course that was only during Holidays from school, most children are kept on schedules." She went off a little more after that about how a child ought to be kept on a time to make sure they are getting the rest they did, but Sherlock ignored her and looked toward Hamish as he slowly sat up in the chair.

"Why does he call me Mr.Holmes?" Sherlock blurted, still unable to deduce why he was treated so formally compared to everyone else in their shared circles. Mrs.Hudson wasn't sure how to answer him, that was made clear by her sudden stop in talking.

"You know I can't answer that, why not get to know him? He's been here just a little over three days and his parents come back tomorrow evening. Might be your last chance for awhile, I heard Mary talking about sending him to Harrow boarding school." At the mention of boarding school, Sherlock stiffened, he felt like he was running out of time. Mrs.Hudson saw the change in his face and turned to continue cleaning, leaving him to own mind.

"Hamish get up!" Sherlock burst out loudly, pulling on the blanket as Hamish jumped in shock, eyes wide open as he looked frantically around for either his mother or father, but realized it was Sherlock waking him. Sitting up from his awkward sleeping position, the light haired boy wiped away the sleep from his eyes and blinked a few times to better focus on Sherlock.

"Yea?" He questioned clearly groggy, but Sherlock shoved forward a warm cup of tea before taking his spot in his own chair. Watching the son of his greatest friend.

"It is 12 pm you shouldn't have stayed up so late." Sherlock scolded gently, knowing it was pointless to try and teach a child good sleeping patterns when he himself was terrible at doing so. Looking toward Mrs.Hudson who had just finished with the dishes she waved to them both, saying something about bringing up some sandwiches later. Sherlock hadn't really taken the time to give her thanks, it was just that he hadn't cared before. He did notice that after John moved out fully, Mrs. Hudson didn't complain so much about being his landlady and not his house keeper, he assumed it was her way of helping him cope with being alone again, but he didn't think himself as needed help but then again he didn't think he'd die for anyone other than himself. Hamish was now fully aware about what was going on and he got himself in order, fixing his jumper and ruffling his hair, placing an old tattered bookmark at his page, he sat there silently.

"Mr.Holmes don't tell my mum and dad I stayed up." He asked softly, not looking up from his tea cup as he was preparing to finish the cooling drink. Mrs.Hudson was great at making tea and knew just how to make great morning tea to perk anyone up. Sherlock nodded in understanding to Hamish's request and was preparing a list of question for the young boy. There had only been a few times in his life that Sherlock was desperate for answers and this moment was becoming one of them.

"Hamish why is that you call me Mr.Holmes but you refer to Lestrade as Uncle Greg, do you not know that you are named after me?" Well that last question was foolish, Hamish had been in school and it was easy to assume that one was taught their full name, surely Hamish knew his full name by now. The black haired grey eyed man studied the light haired blue eyed boy with intent to deduce everything that would come out as an answer, he waited but not for too long.

"I'm not an idiot Mr.Holmes, I know my full name. it is Hamish S. Watson, the 'S' being Sherlock. I know I am named after you because you are my dad's best friend, like a brother to him. I just don't know you Mr. Holmes." The boy was clear in his words and Sherlock was amused, he'd never again underestimate the ten year old. Leaning back in his chair he steepled his fingers under his chin and studied the boy for a moment, a smirk forming.

"You are right Hamish, you aren't an idiot. I don't visit because your mother has made it clear she doesn't like my life style. She likes me a fair amount to not get upset when I call your father away, but she doesn't like it when I risk my life or your fathers. One would say she has a bittersweet feeling towards me and I have not made a move to either calm or worsen her fears of an untimely end for either your father or I. However, young Mr.Watson I do not intend to be the cause of your father's death and perhaps in me seeing just how clever you are I might make more of an effort to visit, bring you new books or with your parent's permission you could be a sort of an assistant to me. Not in the mean that your father is but in the sense of helping me with experimenting. Miss Molly Hooper has always loved you one can assume. " Sherlock paused in his lengthy speech to make eye contact with Hamish who was grinning ear to ear, he was an edger kind of boy if given the right direction.

"I'd like that Sherlock, maybe mum will finally let me turn the spare bedroom into a study or something, somewhere where my experiments won't get in the way." The way Hamish said Sherlock's name had him tilting his head, he was getting somewhere with his young ward and smiled kindly, a rare treat for anyone.

"Well then Hamish not that we are on fair terms and more or less open with each other, why don't we go and visit Molly? She has a heart for me, think you can handle it?" Sherlock got to his fit and pulled on his coat, Hamish reached for his own which was on a hook, he pulled on a cap as Sherlock looped his scarf.

"I like to know how things work, I thought about being a pathologist but mum nearly fainted." He joked softly, noteably becoming more comfortable with Sherlock as he followed the man out of the flat.

\-----  
"Sherlock you can't bring him here!" Shouted Molly, one of the rare times she was loud in voice. Her body was protectively guarding the entrance to the morgue, a dark glare cast on the taller man in front of her.

"Oh stop fretting Molly, he isn't going to touch anything. We are here to pick up that heart you saved for me then be on our way. Hamish here wants to be a pathologist and might take your place in a decade or two. Now why not give him a tour?" Sherlock asked with a coy smile, Molly melted on the spot and moved to look around the corner for anyone coming.

"No tour today but I'll let you in to get the heart. Nothing more then that Sherlock." She said, failing to sound stern, Molly turned and opened the doors. Hamish and Sherlock shared a glance, the short boy hid a giggle before following Sherlock into the part of the morgue that had Molly's office. . Hamish was a little uneasy following Sherlock in but he just kept thinking that the people in here were dead, he didn't fear the dead it was the living that worried him, the old war stories he'd sometimes over hear his father talk about, living people made him uneasy, the cruelty a living person could have done to another living person had Hamish questioning things at an early age. He kept his hands to himself as he kept close to Sherlock, his blue eyes wandering around the morgue in curiosity, he paused as Sherlock stopped walking.

"Hamish you stay here with Molly I'm going down to the mortuary." He dismissed himself as Molly went to the little part of the morgue that was her own, she directed Hamish to sit at in chair as she took her own office seat.

"You know it's not bad you want to be a pathologist. My dad was excited for me, taking over for him but my mum was not thrilled. Your mum will come around, just don't go around making your own bodies." She teased but failed as Hamish stared at her, not really believing she actually said that, with a squeak she covered her mouth and flushed. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't make jokes they aren't that good." Molly ran her fingers through her over the shoulder pony tail and looked down at her paper work, Hamish followed her attention and got up to stand at her desk with her.

"Molly, do you think I'm weird?" He asked her softly, his hand picking a ball of rubber bands and playing with a few of them, a slightly uneasy feeling about him, Molly softened and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You aren't the first boy to ask me that, but I'll tell you the same thing I told him. Just because your interests are different than everyone else's doesn't mean you are weird, just means you are unique and that is far better than being normal." She was sincere in her words, patting his shoulder and giving him a warm smile. As she finished her words, Sherlock appeared in the door way and knocked on the open door and smiled a kind of vacant smile toward them both, it was obvious that he didn't smile all that often. He was carrying a bag within a bag and used his other hand to carry a box tucked under his arm.

"I took the heart and some of your old books I found tucked away, if you need any of them just let me know and I'll bring them back." Molly looked at him and nodded, realizing that books were most likely in the box, she nearly forgot she had any left over text books in storage, but leave it to Sherlock to find anything and everything. There were a few more words between them before Hamish gave a hug to Molly and they were escorted out of Barts and back into the street, Sherlock thrust the books in Hamish's arms as he hailed a cab, the ride home was full of excitement from Hamish.

\----  
"Boys it's late shouldn't you been in bed Hamish?" Mrs.Hudson's voice rang out around 10 o'clock in the evening, Hamish had eaten and showered but he remained at the kitchen table looking over one of the text books from Barts. Sherlock was dissecting the heart he got from Molly a uneaten plate of food behind him, like his father Hamish tried to get him to eat at least once a day. Letting herself in Mrs. Hudson cleaned up the area around him, doing her best to not squeal or complain about the heart ruining her plates. "Hamish off to bed with you, your mum and dad won't be happy." She said to him kindly, putting a napkin in the book to mark it's page before closing it, Hamish tired to protest but he just yawned and got up, Mrs.Hudson smiled and patted his back and directing him to his father's room. Sherlock watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy disappeared into the room and Mrs.Hudson headed out of the flat, the door closing silently.

It wasn't more than five minutes until Hamish returned from his father's bed room with blanket in tow, he drug it along with him, without words he went over to Sherlock and hugged him awkwardly at an angle. "Good night Sherlock." He said softly before turning and returning to his father's bed room, it took the detective a moment to reply. "Good Night Hamish, sweet dreams" He replied before returning to his work a content smile on his face.

 

Chapter 3: Welcome Home!  
Summary:  
John and Mary return to see a rather..Sherlock-afied Hamish Watson.

 

End Notes:  
While this is the last chapter sort of, there is a fourth but it's full of feels and not required to read, this is the ending of "For A Week"

 

"Mary lets go, I told Sherlock we'd be home by six-thirty, we better hurry or we caught in traffic." John's voice carried well from the driveway into the house. Mary was tucking her mother in with a cup of tea, a nurse tending to her ailing father. Mary had her hair pinned back and she looked worn down, but the knowledge that in a few hours she'd be able to hug her son and forget her worries. The woman kissed her mother on the cheek gently and patted her father's arm before departing her parent's cottage to climb into the car that they bought for these country visits.

"We can bring Hamish up here next time before your father get any worse, I bet the country would be good for him not to mention your dad needs to have a little more life around her." John's word were gentle having lost both his parents within months of each other, Harry hadn't talked to him much since then, but it wasn't like he tried hard either. Mary looked at him with sad eyes and pressed her head against his shoulder as he started to drive, she was silent for most of the drive, they held hands and welcomed the silent comfort they offered each other.

\----  
"Sherlock! Mum and dad are on their way home!" Shouted Hamish as he ran out his father's old room and slide on his socks into the kitchen. Sherlock had taken apart the entire heart and start little experiments on the tissue in random vials, some sizzled and others foamed in the different mixtures that still hadn't been brought to Hamish's attention.

"Well get dressed and look presentable, I'll ask Mrs.Hudson if she can help you pack." Sherlock spoke from where he sat across the flat at the window, the violin on his shoulder, bow in hand. Hamish nodded and returned to his father's room not to long after the sound of the shower starting. Sherlock placed the violin back on the table, bow still in hand he ventured down the stairs. Giving a brisk knock to Mrs.Hudson's door he waited until the elderly woman came to the door and smiled at him, it was apparent it had been a rough night sleep.

"Sorry I'm not looking so presentable myself Sherlock, my hip has been killing me, what can I do for you?" She was soft spoken it appeared that the day was not starting off well for her, Sherlock himself unable to stand too much emotion, took a step back and cleared his throat, trying not to deduce how much longer Mrs.Hudson had left in this world, it was an unpleasant thought to him. "Could you help Hamish pack his bags? I've never been one to fold things properly and Mary seems to be the type to like things in order" Mrs.Hudson smiled and nodded before following Sherlock up the steps into his flat, find John's old room with ease he could hear her hum a show tune as she packed Hamish's bags.

Once again the detective picked up his violin and started to play another tune, this one a little softer. It didn't take long for Hamish to finish up with his shower and dress, he joined Sherlock in the living room with a stylish jumper and pressed pants, Sherlock looked at him and smiled. "I think we ought to order take away for when your parents get here, I'll bring the books to you tomorrow, I don't feel like arguing with your mum after the week she's had." Hamish nodded in agreement and found himself heading toward the kitchen, opening the book again he started to read it again, Sherlock's music lost in the background, Mrs.Hudson's own tune a little more distant.

\---  
"Dad! Mum!" Hamish shouted loudly at his parents, running down the steps to greet them, he nearly knocked his father over. Sherlock met them at the doorway, take away in hand, Mrs.Hudson was standing in the doorway to her own room.

"Oh darling I've missed you" Mary hugged her son tight, nearly squeezing him to death but he didn't turn away and welcome her tight but slightly sad embrace. "I take it you weren't much trouble, now let me see if there are any broken bones or burns, step back." Hamish groaned but did as his mother asked, showing that he wasn't burned or lacking body parts, John simply laughed and shook hands with Sherlock in greeting.

"I promised you Mary that I wouldn't harm him, he is safe I swear." Sherlock's words were a little strained, still not used to Mary after ten years, but then again he wasn't the type to have a lot of friends. With a wave of his hand he welcomed them into the flat, Hamish was going on about all the books he read, doing his best not to discuss the ones that were once Molly's.

"Thank you Sherlock for watching him, he needed it." John said after the meal started and Hamish was overly excited to tell his mother all about the one ring and a something about a wizard boy, both men hardly paid attention, but Mary lapped it up.

"It wasn't all that troubling, he is a clever boy honest. I think he will make a fine pathologist." Sherlock inserted the words easily into his words, John stopped mid bite to look up at Sherlock, a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. "Don't act daft, Hamish want's to be a pathologist like Molly, why not let him?" Sherlock made a gesture toward the pile of pathology books in the corner, newer editions that wouldn't have normally took up space in Sherlock's flat.

"You let me son go to the Bart's MORGUE!" John glared up at Sherlock, but the detective didn't waver from his point. "Hamish isn't going to be some addition to your crime solving, he will have a nice life and go to Harrow and be brilliant." John said through clenched teeth, but as he looked at Hamish he could see the clever genius mind in him, his shoulders slacked as he put his food down. "If he wants to I don't stop him, but that doesn't men you take him with you on all your bloody crime solving adventures." John said firmly which was awarded with a stern nod from Sherlock.

"I won't bring him but I'd like to visit him more, teach him a few things that I've learned. He is clever and might even be better than I am, he has a gentle heart, he'd make a great pathologist or a fabulous detective, but his genius would be lost in teaching." Sherlock made his point softly and caught the gaze of Hamish who paused to shove more food down his throat, Mary yawned and stood up.

"I think it's time we head home, come on Hamish get your things, thank you once again Sherlock." Mary was formal in her words as she and Hamish went to gathering all his things. Sherlock and John sat down in the living room for a moment, Mary had found her way down to Mrs.Hudson and talked with the landlady a little longer before finally some time after they all found themselves outside on Baker street.

"Good night, Mary, John and you too Hamish. If I get a case I'll call you but Lestrade hasn't been finding any cases worth my time." Sherlock received an awkward hug from Mary, another handshake from John, his best friend agreeing to be ready for a 7 or even a 4 if Sherlock got desperate for a case. It was Hamish's turn to say good bye, he hugged Sherlock warmly around the middle, at first Sherlock didn't know how to react but after a moment he hugged the ten your old back and ruffled his hair. "Visit anytime you like Hamish, my door is always open and I'll make sure to bring those books to you soon, I might have some more to give you." Hamish smiled up at Sherlock and broke apart from the embrace and smiled before climbing into the car, he rolled down the window to call out something to the tall detective.

"See you soon Uncle Sherlock."

 

Chapter 4: Hamish S. Watson MD  
Summary:  
Warning: Mentions two character's death and a lot of feels. Not required to read but an extra chapter. You've been warned.

Flash forward 20 years. Hamish is now the new pathologist at Barts, under Molly Hoopers who is preparing to retire.  
Sherlock is 68 years old in this.

 

End Notes:  
Did you like it? Please all input is needed and apprenticed

~my first completed work.

 

Hamish S. Watson, Forensic Pathologist.

The door label had recently been updated, a grown man now, he was still experience a childish joy to see his name so proudly displayed. His office which was connected to the mortuary was looking bland, so the brown haired blue eyed man had spent most of his day organizing things. Pictures of his father and mother were on their own shelf beside his father's old medical textbooks, his late father's medals were displayed in a shadow box. On another shelf he placed the old pathology books that were gifts of his Uncle Sherlock, they were also present beside a picture of him and Sherlock doing an experiment at 221B. Mrs.Hudson was on the shelf beside Sherlock, it was an old picture she before she past away. It was the summer after he turned fourteen, he visited her often in the weeks before he went back to Harrow, she grew fragile but also tried to have a smile for him. She left the flat to Sherlock and John in her will, it was later left to Hamish in his father's will if ever the case Sherlock wanted to move out, but he hadn't yet, even now in his current state Sherlock Holmes was still the owner of 221B Baker street and Hamish was his roommate. He looked fondly at his mum's picture, it was one of her and his dad celebrating his graduation from college before he took his four years and joined the peace core. He might have studied forensic pathology but he was a clever man and brilliant enough to be used as a medical doctor.

Looking at his father's picture a lump formed in his throat, he wasn't there when John had his heart attack, he was in a deeper part of Africa but he got the news quickly enough and traveled back in time to join his family and parent's friends at his father's funeral, that was three years ago and still Hamish struggled with the knowledge that his father won't ever be coming back. Hiding the tears with a wipe of his eyes, he thought for a moment about his mother, she moved to her parent's old house and called often, Hamish made it a ritual to visit her at least once a week and if he couldn't he still called her daily. He wasn't too fond of her being all alone in the country but then again she liked it, being fairly younger than her late husband, she found comfort in the solidarity of a widow's life, writing books and making jumpers of which Hamish had nearly forty different ones.

"Doctor Watson, I'm closing up care to go out to the pub?" Hamish turned toward the voice and shook his head no, he wasn't the drinking or pub going type and declined the invitation before taking notice to the clock. Excusing himself he pulled on his coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck in the same fashion as his Uncle Sherlock, but he didn't fancy the long coat but went for a short number that zipped rather then buttoned. He tucked the ends of the scarf down the front of his coat before locking up and heading out of Barts, a wave good bye to Molly as he past her by.

Molly married briefly but it didn't last long, she wasn't the type to be home most of the day and he wasn't overly fond of hearing about all the body parts, instead she had a string of long term boyfriends, even had herself a little girl. Molly still held a flame for Sherlock but it was silently agreed that nothing would come of it, but it was fun to see Sherlock in his old coat teasing her on his good days. Flinching against the cold winter air, Hamish hailed a cab and found himself thinking of his own failed romances until he was present at 221B Baker Street.

"I'm back Sherlock, sorry it took so long. I brought take away, did you eat anything?" Hamish was quick in his words as he put the food on the table, Sherlock with his nearly all grey hair turned from his spot beside the window, the violin at his shoulder but no sound coming. Hamish cleared his throat to get his attention again but Sherlock started to play an old tune and in that moment Hamish knew what kind of night it was. "Come and eat something Sherlock, Lestrade will call if he has something." Hamish said loudly try and get his voice over the sound of the violin. Gregory Lestrade died nearly ten years ago, lung cancer but Sherlock wouldn't know that.

"John I'm working on something the violin helps me think." Was Sherlock's reply, his voice a little more rough compared to when he was younger, but he didn't notice it in himself. Hamish sighed, feeling a powerful throb in his throat as he knew what kind of night was going to be. Sherlock had for the past four years slowly started to suffer from Alzheimer and including himself forgetting not only where he was but when. Hamish had learned the pattern of his disease, if a older tune was played, something he remembered for his childhood spent at 221B then Sherlock thought himself back then, when John was still alive. If no music was playing or it was idle plucking at the strings then Sherlock was in the present day and would often times just like to sit and talk about random things with Hamish until the memories of long ago came back and Hamish was again John.

"Sherlock please eat." Hamish pleaded againing, taking the elderly man by the shoulder and directing him toward the kitchen and sitting him down, pushing forward food. It took a moment but Sherlock started to eat, slow bites and tired not to struggle too much with his fork, it wasn't easy to watch him like this but Hamish had learned a brave face from a long time ago. There was a flicker of change in Sherlock's cloudy grey eyes that Hamish recognized.

"How was work Hamish?" Sherlock asked him his voice a little more steady like he was getting back to normal, Hamish was thrilled to be called his real name and smiled warmly at the man.

"Work was alright, nothing compared to our experiments that for sure. How was your day Uncle Sherlock?" Hamish asked reaching across to touch the fragile hand of his father's greatest friend and his own best friend.

"I saw your father, he is very proud of you. He also said he will visit me sometime soon." Sherlock put his fork down and pushed his barely touched food away and got up on uneasy legs and returned to his chair, violin back in hand. Hamish remained at the table tear in his eyes, it was clear what was happening soon, it was said that when someone is close to dying they see their loved ones, perhaps it was close to Sherlock Holmes' end and Hamish wasn't even sure he was prepared himself, but then again he had so many memories that he couldn't help but be happy for knowing that more brilliant man in the world.

"Come sit with me John." Sherlock said this time softly, Hamish rose up and sat in his father's chair and looked at the old man with as much admiration he once had for his father. It was silent for some time, it wasn't long until Sherlock started to doze off, it was tiring in his state not to mention his life style didn't exactly have the longest longevity. Hours past until Hamish rose up to check on Sherlock, it became part of the nightly routine, check his pulse before putting a blanket around him and retiring to his own rooms.

"Good night Uncle Sherlock." He whispered before placing an innocent kiss on Sherlock's forehead and turned to clean up the kitchen before himself going into his room and changing before returning to the living room and laying on the couch.

"Good night Hamish, sweet dreams." Came the soft whisper of Hamish as he drifted to sleep, it was normal for him to sleep on the couch in case Sherlock needed him.

\----  
4 Months later

" I wouldn't be the man I am today without both of you. I miss you both so much. Thank you dad for teaching how to be strong and brave. Thank you Uncle Sherlock for showing me that being brilliant is the great gift to have. " Hamish placed the set of flowers on their graves, Sherlock being the stubborn man he was didn't want to be placed beside his family in the Holmes crypt, it was John's idea to have him placed beside him on his right and Mary at her time at his left. "My right hand man and my lady close to my heart." Those were John's words and Hamish respected them, but it didn't make not having them any easier. He was there for at least two hours just talking to their stones and pretending they were there with him.

A vibrating home had his attention draw away and it was Natalie Lestrade, claiming there was a murder at least a seven. Saying his farewells he left and hailed a cab before joining up with Natalie, the youngest daughter of Lestrade and currently in charge of Scotland Yard after her late father.

"Look at you all dressed up got a date?" She teased him but the look he gave her had her regretting it.

"No I was just visiting my dad and uncle." He said softly, pulling on a pair of gloves and following the DI into the crime scene. A tall and narrow faced man stopped him and ask for his credentials, showing him a made up badge, that read: " Hamish S. Watson MD. Forensic Pathologist & Consulting Detective." A legacy started by two men and carried on by a clever young man that had the brave heart of his father, kind nature of his mother and brilliant mind of his uncle. He still is the only consulting detective a title he proudly carries.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome prompts sent to my tumblr and or in my comments. 
> 
> tumblr  
> http://a-bit-of-a-hellion.tumblr.com/


End file.
